


Warmth

by 8lapetitehirondelle8



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, IT'S NOT MY FAULT, It's definitely my fault, Use of the word 'cock' as both a swear and an anatomical descriptor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:39:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8lapetitehirondelle8/pseuds/8lapetitehirondelle8
Summary: Four hours since he’d first called. Seven since Richard had left. James had given up pacing. He’d given up calling. He had been reduced to sitting, head in his hands, on the sofa.Waiting.





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pippinmctaggart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/gifts).



> All blame for the below goes to [pippinmctaggart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart). 
> 
> Except, of course, that it came out of my head. And then I wrote it down. But she enabled it!!!!! 
> 
> Okay, okay. Truth: I wrote it and said, "Here, this is for you," and she said "Thank you, now post it," and I said, "Only if you fix it first," and then she did, and now here you go.
> 
> (From my heart, Pip. <3<3<3)

**Warmth**

James was having a particularly pleasant dream where he’d been let loose in a Lego warehouse with the singular instruction to do whatever he bloody well wanted. He’d just begun to ponder the overwhelming possibilities when he heard his name.

“ _James._ ”

He looked around the dream warehouse but he was the only one there. His dream-self shrugged and continued down an aisle of yellow bricks, past the crates full of singles, two-by-twos, two-by-fours, his mind still churning through ideas of what to do with it all. Then he heard the voice again.

“ _Jaaames._ ”

This time, though, it came with a warmth. A familiar, weighty warmth.

“Rise and shine, old man.”

The voice was much clearer this time, and James’ sleep-addled brain finally registered it—Richard’s voice. James came back to himself reluctantly, groaning and rubbing his eyes. When he opened them he was face to face with an altogether too-chipper Richard snuggled up on his chest, his nose a scant inch away from James’.

“‘S th’ time?” he croaked out as Richard planted a sweet little kiss on his chin. “Ugh, gerroff. ‘M sleeping.” James pushed Richard off his chest none too gently.

Richard huffed out a laugh as he rolled and said, “It’s half-eight. I’ve already been out for a run, you lazy sod. Shift yer arse! This is the first day off we’ve had in weeks and I want to spend some time with you — and watching you snore is _not_ on the agenda!”

“Half-eight?” James grumbled, “Fuck off, Hammond. ‘S my day off, too, and I’m going back t’ sleep.” James rolled over and pulled the duvet up over his head, burying his face in his pillow to further block out the light coming in through the curtains.

The pout was apparent in Richard’s voice. “Please, James? It’s lovely out, I’ve planned everything already, all you need to do is sort yourself out and come with.”

“No,” James said firmly from under the covers. “We’ve spent the last two weeks driving shit cars through awful terrain and weather without a proper bed, and there is absolutely nothing you could say or do that will get me to move before I’m bloody good and ready.”

“James-”

“ _NO_!”

“But James, it’s—”

“Hammond,” James growled, a decided edge to his voice, “if you don’t drop it right this second and let me get back to sleep, so help me, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

There was complete silence from Richard which should have been James’ first clue that maybe he’d gone a bit too far, but he was too utterly knackered to think about anything other than sleep right now, and he certainly couldn’t bring himself to care if he’d dented Richard’s feelings a bit. Richard knew how badly he’d slept on this trip— he’d spent an inordinate amount of time chasing down caffeinated options just to keep James going at some points. He should know better than to even _try_ to goad James into getting up unless there was a very good reason for it. James let out a disgruntled rumble and curled up tighter under the duvet.

Richard bit his lip for a moment and then whispered, “Never mind,” before getting up gently off the bed and disappearing downstairs.

James heard the tinge of hurt in the whisper and as he drifted back off to sleep he promised himself he’d make it up to Richard once he woke up again. Whenever that happened.

*******

James had surfaced again a couple of hours later, rolling onto his back and stretching languidly before opening his eyes and sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair and reached for last night’s discarded (but still neatly folded) pants and t-shirt, pulling them on and stumbling down the stairs towards the kitchen. Richard was there, rinsing a plate and putting it in the drying rack. He was wearing a t-shirt and the bottom half of his riding leathers. The leather jacket was draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

James flicked the switch on the kettle and then wrapped an arm around his partner, planting a stubbly kiss on Richard’s clean-shaven cheek, saying, “Sorry I was ratty earlier.”

Richard sighed, “‘S all right,” and moved towards the chair where his jacket was hung.

James rummaged in the cupboards for tea things and said, “It’s not that late, I’m sure we could still do whatever it was that you were wanting to do?”

“I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up, or if you’d really want to do anything when you did, so I… I made other plans.”

James looked around to see Richard slipping his jacket on. “Oh. All right, then. Suppose I could get on with a few things round here while you’re out.”

Richard nodded and did up his zip, grabbing his helmet and checking that his gloves were in his jacket pocket. He started toward the back door.

“What time will you be back, do you think?” James asked.

“Dunno.”

“Oh. Well, enjoy yourself, yeah? I’ll be here,” James said, stirring his tea.

“Okay.”

James suddenly realised he was getting one-word answers and he called out to Richard who was halfway out the door, “Rich?”

Richard stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“You all right?”

“Yeah, fine. See you later.” Richard closed the door without looking back.

James peeked out the kitchen window, watching for Richard to come around the house to the driveway. When he appeared, Richard’s helmet was already firmly in place. He hopped astride his Ducati and pulled out of the drive, headed who knew where.

_Oh, well done, man. You’ve gone and upset him_ , James thought as Richard disappeared around the garden wall. Sighing, he took another swig of his tea and wandered to the front door, opening it and collecting the paper from the stoop. Returning inside, he tossed the paper on the coffee table in the lounge for later and decided he’d better get on with all those boring, domestic necessities like laundry. He could do Richard’s as well as his own, that would surely be appreciated. It might not make a whole apology, but it was something.

Three hours, four loads of washing, a trip to the shops to restock the fridge and pantry (which yielded a few more than usual of Richard’s favourite things as a secondary front to the clothes-washing apology), and a shower later, James planted his arse on the sofa in the lounge with a fresh cuppa and plans to read the newspaper. He shook it out of its elastic band and unfolded the front portion. As he did, his eye landed on the date.

“Oh _cock_.”

Pink wafer biscuits and clean pants weren’t going to solve this one. This was very, very, bad. James’ stomach lurched as he read and re-read the date on the paper just to be sure. Nope, it was definitely correct. The date on his phone confirmed it. James was officially twenty-seven kinds of bastard.

He knew what the end of Richard’s final plea was, now.

_But James, it’s—_

“Our anniversary,” James whispered to the empty room.

*******

_Guess it’s a good thing he wouldn’t cooperate_ , Richard thought, glancing up at the storm cloud riddled horizon, _The weather’s going to shit anyway_.

He’d ridden out of the city in a sort-of westerly direction and just kept going whichever way he felt like, his mind turning things over and over as the miles rolled away underneath him, until he’d managed to move from completely crushed to incensed — from, _this is it, it’s over_ to _the bastard never remembers anyway, what does it matter_ ? He was currently sitting somewhere bordering on _he’s probably right, anyway, it’s just a stupid date on the calendar, it’s hardly worth the bother every year_.

The last sign he’d seen had been in both English and Welsh, so Richard knew he was going to have to stop for petrol soon or risk getting stranded with no one but sheep for company. He pulled off of the road and took out his phone to find a route to the nearest services, realising for the first time just how far he’d ridden. He memorised the road numbers he’d need and tucked his phone back into the inside pocket of his jacket. Looking up at the sky, he was reminded of his trip to Scotland on the Vincent Black Shadow. The storm clouds rolling in over the hills were black and heavy with rain and he knew he was going to be wetter than wet by the time he made it back to London, and probably half frozen as well. At least the Ducati was marginally more comfortable than the Vincent. Marginally.

He took one last look at the approaching storm.

_Matches your mood, Hammond. Fitting. Just get home and forget about it._

*******

James stared helplessly at the floor, his mind swirling.

James was not, by nature, a sentimental sort of person. He knew that about himself, and he knew that Richard was well aware of the fact. James had never put much stock in anniversaries aside from a marking of the passage of time. James knew the date, cherished it, even, but if it were left to him he knew he’d simply notice the significance of the date at some point during the actual day itself and then acknowledge it with a kiss and an ‘I love you’ and let it be at that. Richard, however, had always insisted they mark the occasion somehow. Some years it was as simple as ordering in, watching a film, and fantastic sex. Other years, they’d spruced themselves up, gone out somewhere expensive, and then gone home and had fantastic sex. If they’d been filming, Richard would still find a way to do a little something, usually involving (surprise) fantastic sex.

The thing was, James had always had some warning. Richard would either slowly drop hints the few weeks prior if he was feeling coy, or some years he’d just flat out put it on James’ calendar that they were doing ‘XYZ’ for their anniversary so he wouldn’t schedule over top of it. James never fought him on this. He made the odd dig at Richard’s sentimental tendencies for insisting the occasion be celebrated, yes, but he never dug in his heels. James knew it was important to Richard for whatever reason, so he just went along for the ride.

This time, though, there had been no buildup, no reminders. Just Richard on his chest this morning, full of good intentions, and James had snarled at him and sent him packing without so much as even _trying_ to hear him out. And now Richard was gone on his bike, no telling where he’d ended up, how far he’d ridden. James was certain that whatever ‘other plans’ Richard had made weren’t actually plans at all, just a convenient fib to get out without having to talk about anything. James ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

_Fix it, May. Call him home_.

James dialed, waited while It rang.

Voicemail.

*******

When Richard had finished filling the petrol tank on his bike and pulled his phone out to plan a route home, he saw the missed call from James and the voicemail icon blinking. He thumped the screen repeatedly with his gloved thumb before he got the message to play.

 

> “Rich, I just realised. I’m so sorry, love, I hadn’t been paying attention to the dates. I hadn’t been paying attention to anything. I was a complete bastard and I know it. Look, wherever you are, when you get this, just send me up a flare, let me know you’re all right? And come home. Please. I love you.”

Richard breathed a shaky sigh of relief as his world slid back onto its axis, righting itself. He hurried to pull off a glove so that he could dial James back, tell him where he was and that he was okay, that he was sorry, that he’d overreacted, and that he’d be home as soon as he could be.

Everything was wet — glove, phone, and hands — and he scrabbled for purchase on the slick plastic but lost the battle. He watched his phone fall in slow motion, watched it bounce once, twice, the case flying to pieces, and then the phone itself shattering, the bulk of it tumbling into a puddle.

“Shit!”

He looked around. No phone box, not that he’d really expected there to be one in this day and age. He couldn’t borrow a phone from a stranger, not unless he and James wanted to change the number on the landline to prevent any potential future botheration. He’d just have to book it home as fast as he could, and now he’d have to do it on a prayer because without his phone there were no maps. Richard sighed, picked up the bits of his phone he could find, tucked them away, and headed in a direction he hoped would lead him to a motorway.

*******

James waited patiently for an hour. That was surely long enough for Richard to come to a pause and check his phone. When sixty long minutes had elapsed and nothing had come through — not a text, not a call — James allowed himself to worry. He waited another ten minutes just to be sure and then dialed Richard again. When it went straight to voicemail, James felt his heart constrict. Richard wouldn’t have turned his phone off, surely? Even when he was furious about an argument they’d had, Richard had never turned his phone off. Ignored it certainly, but never completely cut off the only means for James to find him.

James chewed at his thumbnail and stared out the kitchen window, silently willing Richard home.

*******

Richard was finally back on the right road and headed towards home as quickly as he could go without fishtailing if he hit standing water. That was getting to be a real danger at this point, though, and he was moving much more slowly than he wanted to. By this time James was sure to be getting towards a panic. Frustrated, Richard accelerated to overtake a Citroen at exactly the same time a lorry decided to change lanes.

It missed him by inches.

When his heart rate had returned to something resembling normal, Richard gave up on speed and concentrated on staying whole. He knew that if anything happened to him it would kill James, and he couldn’t live with himself if he put James through any more unnecessary hurt than he had already in this lifetime.

_Just get home in one piece. He’d rather wait for you than have you come home in a body bag_.

*******

Another hour crept by. James paced, and looked out the window, and paced, and looked out the window. He kept calling, hoping to hear Richard’s voice come down the line, but every time he dialed it went straight to voicemail.

He finished another lap of pacing the entirety of the downstairs of the house and looked out the window again at the weather. The storm was picking up quickly and loudly, wind whipping around and making the trees shake, rain falling harder and harder. This was no weather to be out in. It was dangerous, especially on a bike. James forcefully shoved images of Richard’s mangled body in a ditch somewhere to the back of his mind. Richard knew what he was doing. He was perfectly capable of dealing with a bit of weather.

James stared out towards the road. “Come _on_ , Hammond. Where _are_ you?”

*******

_Oh, thank CHRIST_!

Richard could see his turning coming up. He was soaked through, frozen, and anxious as hell.

But he was almost home.

*******

Four hours since he’d first called. Seven since Richard had left. James had given up pacing. He’d given up calling. He had been reduced to sitting, head in his hands, on the sofa.

Waiting.

*******

When Richard pulled into the drive there were no lights on in the house. James surely wouldn’t have gone out? No time to think about it. He rolled the Ducati into the garage, kicked off his boots, and peeled his leathers off as quickly as he could, just barely taking the time to hang them haphazardly on the hooks by the door so they could drip dry.  He’d have to make it to the house in his socks, through the wet to the back door. Not that it mattered, he was already soaked and freezing, what was another couple of minutes? He bolted from the door of the garage up the back steps and ploughed through the door, realising as he came to a stop just inside the kitchen that James would probably murder him for tracking in all that water.

As the door slammed shut behind Richard, James bolted into the kitchen, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of his partner dripping on the tile, clutching himself and shivering. James closed the gap between them in two strides, wrapping his arms around Richard, burying his face in his hair. In a choked whisper, he asked, “Where the hell have you _been_?”

Richard sighed at the feeling of James’ warmth, hugging back as hard as he could. “‘M sorry. Got c-c-caught in the storm. Almost all the way t’ Wales. T-tried to call when I got your message but I d-d-d-dropped the phone. B-broken. G-g-gonna need a new one.”

“ _Wales_?!” James asked incredulously.

Richard nodded a shivery, stuttery nod. James was warm. Wonderfully warm. Richard suddenly realised just how cold he was. James must have noticed as well, because he started rubbing Richard’s back and then his arms brusquely, trying to get the mass of goose pimples to go down.

“Get your kit off, get upstairs, and get in the shower. I’ll chuck everything in the wash and be up straight behind you, okay?”

All Richard could do was nod and comply. He heard James flick the switch on the kettle and start shifting soggy clothes behind him as he carefully made his way upstairs. He stood and shivered for as long as it took to get the water lukewarm, and then decided to wait for the water to actually get hot from inside the shower. It took longer than he’d ever remembered it taking, though he figured that had to have something to do with the fact that he was bloody freezing. Once the water finally got hot, though, all Richard could do was lean against the tile and let it stream over him. Everything was starting to hurt. Seven hours on a bike — any bike — was enough to do in a man in his twenties, let alone someone Richard’s age. It was all he could do to stay upright.

Luckily, James had indeed followed up straight behind him.

“Rich?”

“Mmh?”

“You all right in there?”

“Mmh.”

The shower door slid open a crack, and Richard looked over his shoulder at James helplessly.

“I thought not.” James stepped into the shower behind Richard and slid the door closed. Seeing Richard’s eyes widen, he said, “Well, I had to toss my clothes in as well, you know. They got a bit damp off some wreck who staggered in the back door. Bloody little pikey had been out jumping in the puddles.”

With what little energy he had, Richard stuck his tongue out at James. James moved right up behind him and moved them both under the stream of hot water, unfolding Richard’s arms from around himself and starting to work on his shoulders, letting the heat of the water help the muscles relax. Richard gave over to the gentle ministrations of his partner, letting James knead out his shoulders, then his arms one by one, and then his hands. Richard could feel himself starting to breathe normally, not the half-frozen stuttery breaths he’d been taking. The warmth was starting to return to his extremities, but his core was still stubbornly cold. The sooner he got himself into bed, the better. Richard sighed and reached weakly for the soap.

James took it from his hand, saying, “Let me.”

Richard was too tired to argue. James gently soaped him off, staying as close as possible to help keep Richard warm along with the water. Richard heard the click of the top of the shampoo bottle, followed by James pulling him back to rest against  his chest. He dropped his head back onto James’ shoulder and let the older man massage his scalp, moving alternately in circles and long, broad lines with his fingertips. James shifted slightly to get better access to Richard’s neck and Richard nearly whimpered at the feeling. He hadn’t realised just how tense he was at the base of his skull until James started kneading it with his thumbs. Staying upright was becoming a challenge, but he persevered. Barely.

Eventually, James got Richard rinsed off and helped him out of the shower, wrapping him in a clean towel and shooing him off to the bedroom. Richard barely let the towel fall off of himself before he was under the duvet, curled up in a ball. He was starting to shiver again.

*******

The first thing James saw when he entered the bedroom a few minutes later was the shaking mass beneath the covers. He made his way over, picking up Richard’s discarded towel and draping it over the back of a chair, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Rich.”

“M-m-mmmh?”

“Drink some of this.” James held a mug towards Richard, and ended up having to help the younger man take a few sips so he didn’t spill with his shaking. The drink wasn’t as hot as it could have been at this point, but it was still quite warm.

“W-what’s in this?”

“Tea.”

“And?”

“Oh, all right. Tea and a bit of brandy.”

“M-m-mythbusters disproved t-that, y’know,” Richard smirked. “Alcoh-hol doesn’t actually h-help raise your body temp-p-perature.”

“Spoil all my fun, why don’t you?” James smiled as he helped Richard drink some more of the toddy.

When half the mug was gone, James put it on the nightstand and moved around to the other side of the bed, divesting himself of his towel and climbing in, spooning up behind Richard. He felt Richard relax into him, felt the periodic shivers lessen. They lay there awhile, just breathing and being.

“You had me scared half to death, you know,” James whispered, pressing a kiss into Richard’s hair.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry. It’s my fault you felt you had to get away in the first place.” James wrapped his arms tighter around Richard, pressing his face into Richard’s neck. “If I’d just heard you out properly this morning none of this would have happened. I’m sure whatever you had up your sleeve was wonderful, and I didn’t even think about what it might be for. I’m sorry, Rich, I forgot. I’m shit with remembering dates, you know that, but I promise it’s not because I don’t absolutely treasure what we have.”

James heard a sniff from Richard then and squeezed him a little tighter.

“Still cold, love?”

“A bit,” Richard admitted.

“Hmmm. Well, I do know one other trick that ought to warm you up.” James trailed a hand down Richard’s front, his fingers gently brushing the very tops of the curls at the base of his belly.

Richard smiled and said, “You’re a dirty old man, you know that?”

“You love it.”

Richard turned to face James and said, “I do,” placing his hands on James’ chest.

“Bloody Nora! Your hands are like fucking ice cubes, man!” James yelped.

“Well get on with it, then, and warm them up for me!”

James rolled his eyes. “The things I do for you.”

“You love it.”

“You know I do.” James rolled up on top of Richard, leaving just enough weight on the younger man to keep him warm and still, and brought their mouths together.

James kissed him languidly, thoroughly, carding the fingers of the hand not supporting his weight through Richard’s hair as he did. He’d been half-hard since they’d been in the shower — there was only so much a man could do to control himself when presented with a naked Richard Hammond, after all — but he ignored the growing itch below his navel for the time being, instead concentrating on his partner. Every inch of Richard that he could feel with his body was taut but pliant, and now blessedly warm to the touch. James decided to take his time as long as Richard would let him. He explored Richard’s mouth with his tongue, relishing in the taste of it, the soft, warm wetness. When he finally came up for air, both of them gasping, James moved to Richard’s jaw line, kissing, nibbling, tasting his way down Richard’s neck to his collarbone, stopping at the junction between neck and shoulder to leave a blooming love bite that made Richard squirm beneath him, their state of  arousal equally evident.

Richard whined as James ghosted down his chest, stalwartly ignoring one nipple altogether and just barely brushing the other with a breath and a wisp of stubble. James let out a throaty chuckle at Richard’s whine, tempted to ignore it, but what the hell, it was their anniversary after all. Indulgently, he repeated the motion twice to the same nipple, earning a pleased growl from Richard as he did, and then abruptly switched sides, scraping his cheek hard against the other nipple, causing Richard’s growl to go from pleased to just the right side of uncomfortable. James followed the scrape of stubble with a soothing swipe of his tongue, then started his journey down the front of his partner again, leaving a wake of wetness from open-mouthed kisses as he traveled. Richard’s hands were in James’ hair now, gently holding on, maintaining contact. James purposefully avoided Richard’s now rampant erection with a skill he’d perfected over time, moving his shoulder just above it as he kissed his way down Richard’s hip to the middle of his thigh. He could feel Richard’s fingers tighten in his hair, silently willing him to get on with it.

James chuckled and whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” Richard whispered back, tugging a bit at James’ hair.

“Tell me what you want, love,” James murmured against Richard’s thigh.

“Oh God, James, your mouth. _Please_.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

James continued his onslaught of kisses up the inside of Richard’s thigh this time, nudging up against Richard’s cock with his nose, softly feeling it stroke up the side of his face. Richard squirmed underneath him, letting out a sort of a squeak, reminding James that perhaps he ought to be a bit less liberal with the parts of him that were stubbly. James grinned and moved his cheek away, replacing it with his tongue, drawing a gasp and a sigh from Richard as he licked up the underside of the shaft, stopping just short of the head, waiting until Richard relaxed.

Richard peeked out from under his lashes just in time to see James take all of him in. His cock bumped the back of James’ throat and he gave a small shout, groaning as James undulated his tongue, slowly drawing his mouth up Richard’s length.

James repeated the move and Richard hissed, “Swear to God, James, you do that again and I won’t last! Oh, Christ— dead kittens, dead kittens, dead kittens!”

James, at Richard’s valiant attempt to keep himself from coming, just laughed his throaty laugh around Richard’s cock which caused the younger man’s hips to buck up at the intensity of the sensation.

James wanted nothing more in this moment than to watch Richard come completely unglued. He took Richard fully into his mouth again, relaxing his jaw to accommodate as much of him as he could, and, one hand holding Richard’s hip to keep him from bucking too far, James employed the other in tandem with his mouth, in and out, up and down, slowly building up the pace. Richard started to writhe beneath him, breathing harder and faster, clutching the sheet, letting loose a string of incomprehensible words and thoroughly indecent noises. James shifted himself so as not to come simply from the sounds Richard was making and the friction from the mattress, not missing a beat with his partner who clearly was going to tip over the edge any second now. James calculated two more passes of Richard’s cock and on the third he shifted his working hand around the back of Richard’s balls, pressing just slightly upwards with the pad of his finger.

“James _James_ **_JAMES_ **!”

There it was, the warm, familiar liquid heat at the back of his throat. James swallowed hard, holding onto Richard’s hips as his orgasm slowed, giving in and grinding down against the mattress in an attempt to alleviate his own need.

Even in the throes of pleasure Richard was aware of James’ movement and blindly reached for his partner’s arms, hauling James up his body to ride out his own orgasm on Richard’s hip.

“Fuck, Rich, so fucking _gorgeous—_ ” And then James’ world went dark and light all at once and he slumped down next to Richard, resting his head on his partner’s shoulder.

The two of them lay there, panting, boneless, waiting for the world to stop spinning and come back into focus. Suddenly Richard threw the duvet off the bed, moaning, “It’s bloody _boiling_ in here!”

James let loose a belly laugh. “I take it we’ve successfully warmed you up, then?”

“I’ll say. Had fun doing it, too.” Richard rolled over and flopped on top of James, winking at him and kissing the tip of his nose.

“Oomph! Tell you what,” James said, running his hands down Richard’s back, bringing them to rest on his arse and giving it a little squeeze, “We can do it again next year, only maybe you can just borrow the walk-in freezer at the pub rather than giving an old man a coronary by traipsing all the way to Wales and back in the wet, hm?”

Richard just smiled fondly and rested his head over James’ heart. “Happy anniversary, old man.”

**~~~**


End file.
